The next time Amaryllis was escorted back to her cell, after an admittedly shorter day of questioning, she found herself alive enough to fall to her sister's side and hold her hand. She didn't want to admit to how guilty she felt for not checking on her sooner, for not forcing herself to stay by Ellana's side throughout the night. For not being there to catch her when she fell. For knowing, deep down, what had happened to her sister, and for not being there to stop it.

Ellana's hand was cool to the touch though her cheeks now held a pinkness to them that hadn't been there the night before. Amaryllis brushed a tangled piece of hair back from Ellana's face, watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, and tried to ignore the stinging in her eyes. Her sister's left hand twitched, sending a quick flash of green across the dark cell walls. Amaryllis took hold of the hand and gently unfurled its fingers. The ripped flesh of Ellana's palm looked a little less angry, a little less red, pulsing, and painful.

Amaryllis breathed a small, quiet sigh of relief. Solas, she thought. He was here, before. He must have come again.

The bit of relief she felt at knowing Ellana was in less pain did not last long against the loneliness and guilt that crept in from behind. It overcame her quickly, forcing her to curl into herself, wrap her arms around her torso and dig her fingers painfully into the sides of her ribcage. Her limbs screamed their resistance after hours stuck in the same position and though her muscles twitched, agonized, pained, she would not move.

I knew this. In the back of my mind, I knew this was going to happen. It shouldn't have happened. We shouldn't have come. If I had just remembered, she berated herself. If I had just remembered, this never would have happened. Ellana would be awake, unharmed, and safe. And then the worst thought of all, I could have lost her, too. Amaryllis shook her head where it lay against her arms, using the dirtied fabric of her dress to scrub at her dry, aching eyes, wishing they would produce the tears she so wished for. Yet they stayed dry.

She stood and took her own bed in her hands, dragging it closer to where Ellana laid. Once finished, she lowered herself slowly onto the cot and pulled the scratchy woolen blanket to her shoulders, curling onto her right side, close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of her sister's chest. Inching her hand forward, she wrapped her fingers gently around Ellana's wrist. Her pulse thumped a reassuring rhythm against Amaryllis' fingertips. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, and slept.

***

The next morning began much the same as the others. Soldiers entered the cell without preamble, pulled her forcefully out of a deadened sleep, and brought her down the corridor to the same room where Leliana, Cassandra, and iron shackles awaited. The scabbing ache in her wrists throbbed at the reminder.

What was different about this morning, however, was that instead of steely gazes, grueling questions, and the weight of the iron on her wrists threatening to pull her shoulders out of socket, Amaryllis was led to a table, a chair, and a steaming bowl of creamy stew. The soldier escorting her pressed her into the seat before he left the room, leaving her once again with the Right and Left Hands of the Divine. Though this time they looked infinitely less like they were prepared to slit her throat and more like the deep purple exhaustion beneath their eyes would never fade.

They watched her for a moment. The surprise Amaryllis felt must have been evident in her expression as Leliana was the first to move, motioning with a quick flick of her wrist towards the bowl of stew.

"Eat," she said.

Cassandra came forward and laid Amaryllis' forgotten bag beside the spoon she had yet to pick up. She felt stuck, wondering what the catch was.

"Here are your... personal effects," the Seeker said, the only indication of her amusement in the slight lift of her brow. Amaryllis pulled the bag towards her with trepidation, her gaze flickering between the two other women, and lifted the top to peer inside. She didn't recall having anything noteworthy in said bag save for a thin blanket, a knife for skinning, and… bread.

The bag fell to her lap and a loaf slid out onto her thighs, which shook with her restrained laughter. She forced herself to clear her throat and looked back up at her captors. Leliana once again motioned for Amaryllis to eat, so she did.

With unsure fingers and a grip weakened by hunger, she picked up the spoon and took her first bite of stew. The vegetables were softened to the point where they almost dissolved upon impact, coating her tongue in sweet velvet. The thickened broth tasted of butter, carrots, and an earthiness she recognized as rabbit.

Amaryllis struggled for a moment against the urge to shovel it all into her mouth and pushed the bread back into her bag, save for a single loaf, and laid the bag back upon the table. Uncaring of the dirt beneath her nails, the dust of the dungeon coating her palms, she dug her fingers into the bread and pulled it apart. Though it was a few days old it was still soft. She dipped the piece into her bowl, popping it quickly into her mouth before the stew could drip upon the table, and closed her eyes, groaning internally.

It wasn't long before her bowl was empty. She scraped the spoon against the bottom, swiped the last bit of bread along the edges, tried not to look too pathetic as she wiped the bowl clean. Amaryllis cleared her throat and without looking up from the empty dish, spoke. "What happens now?"

"Now, you may go," Leliana said with a pause. Amaryllis jolted forward in surprise but kept her lips pressed tightly together in an attempt to hide her shock. There was no way they would just let her go after all of that. "Commander Cullen is leading a march through the valley. His group has gathered outside the main gates, beside the Templar camp."

Of course, she thought. "And what does that have to do with me?"

Cassandra set her hand upon the table and leaned towards her. Her brows were drawn together, wrinkled with what looked like anger, though her voice was anything but. "The breach we encountered at the temple — the one your sister fell from — has grown over the last few days. Smaller rifts have opened throughout the valley and surrounding villages. Demons spill from them, one after the other, without ceasing. People are dying. Our soldiers are weary." It's not anger, it's fear. She's afraid.

"And what about my sister? What will you do with her?" Though the very bones of her body were still aching and weary, Amaryllis steeled herself and stood from her chair to gaze at her, steadily. Unflinching. If the situation had been any different, Amaryllis would have been willing to fight. She remembered enough about these people to know that they were good, that they could be trusted with her own life. She knew that the circumstances of their introduction and her subsequent imprisonment — neither of those things changed that. But putting her sister's life in their hands? She couldn't. She had promised. "Do I even have a choice in the matter?"

Leliana shook her head. "Your sister is still asleep. We've cared for her, and will care for her still, until she wakes. We are not ordering you to fight."

"And the alternative? If I choose not to go?"

"Something tells me," Leliana said. "That you will."

Amaryllis frowned down at the table, glaring into the bottom of the empty bowl. Ellana needed her to stay by her side, to watch over her, to keep her safe. To be with her when she woke, so she wouldn't be afraid.

She thought of Mihris, of the blood on his lips, the blood coating their clasped hands as their gazes met and tears spilled from the corners of his wide sunflower eyes. "Take care of each other," he had said. And she had promised.

But Ellana was still asleep, and there was nothing Amaryllis could do for her now except sit by her side, and wait. She had never been very good at waiting.

Amaryllis peered back up at Cassandra and her frown continued to deepen. The Seeker's skin was pallid, drained of color save for the dark circles surrounding her eyes. Her lips were chapped. Her expression was filled with a hollow desperation, though her gaze held the embers of a fire waiting to be stoked.

The woman with the mark would wake — this Amaryllis knew. The woman with the mark hadn't had a sister but had woken, made her way to the mountaintop where the ruined temple sat. She had fought fight and lived. Ellana would be alright, at least for a while.

But what of the others? The thought had Amaryllis clenching her jaw. She didn't know the soldiers, the villagers, knew nothing about them except that this wasn't just some video game her sister had spent hours upon hours playing. Her tattered robes, the soreness of her knees, the dirt beneath her fingernails — all of it was real. And so were the people of Thedas.

Without looking away from Cassandra, Amaryllis spoke again. "I'll need more than a bag full of bread to fight demons."

"That can be arranged." Leliana nodded and the door to their right opened suddenly, seemingly on its own, scraping against its hinges. Another stony hallway lay behind it, dark and dreary. Same as the dungeon. Amaryllis' shoulders began to tense once more. She watched as Leliana took one step, then another, stopping in the doorway to lift her arm towards her prisoner, beckoning her forward. Another creak sounded from the corridor, another door opening, and a slight breeze blew past, gently ruffling the sweat-slick hair at the nape of Amaryllis' neck. A beam of muted sunlight spread across Leliana's chainmail tunic, shimmering.

She grabbed the strap of her bag, threw it over her shoulder, and walked through the open door.